Everything (REIMAGINED) neville x reader

Chapter 10-Legacies

(Y/N) clenched Harry's hand tightly, feeling the tremors of panic reverberate through my body. The professors wrestled the fake Mad-Eye Moody into submission. "Severus!" Dumbledore's commanding voice cut through the chaos, and he thrust a vial into Snape's hands.

Moody gagged as the liquid was forced down his throat, his body convulsing violently. "Do you know who I am?" Dumbledore demanded, his tone growing increasingly desperate.

"Albus Dumbledore!" Moody sneered through his grimace.

"Are you Alastor Moody?" Dumbledore pressed, pulling Moody closer. "Are you?!" His voice was edged with urgency. Moody's head shook defiantly, indicating that the potion was having its effect.

"Is he in this room?!" Dumbledore shouted, his eyes darting around. Moody's gaze flicked towards a chest in the center of the room. "Harry and (Y/N), move away from there!" Dumbledore's command was immediate, and we scrambled back from the chest.

Snape swiftly used his wand to unlock the chest. The intricate layers slid open with a hiss, revealing a deep pit. The professors approached the pit cautiously, peering into the darkness.

At the bottom lay the real Alastor Moody, looking both relieved and exhausted. "Are you all right, Alastor?" Dumbledore's concern was evident.

"I am sorry, Albus!" Moody responded, his voice weary.

Harry's eyes widened in shock. "W-Well if that's Moody, then who's—"

"Polyjuice Potion!" Snape's voice cut through the confusion. He sniffed the bottle the fake Moody had been drinking, his face darkening.

The man in the chair began to writhe, his body twisting and contorting grotesquely. His features melted and reformed with every convulsion. Finally, he settled into the form of a thin, pale man with spiked brown hair and a snake-like tongue.

Before she could react, the man lunged at (Y/N), his fingers clawing at her hair. She shrieked, struggling to free herself. Harry intervened quickly, yanking (Y/N) away and shielding her behind him.

Professor McGonagall raised her wand threateningly. "Barty Crouch Jr.!" she declared. The name meant nothing to (Y/N), but Harry's face went pale, and she felt a shiver of dread.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours!" Barty Crouch Jr. laughed maniacally, lifting his sleeve to reveal the dark mark—an ominous skull with a serpent. (Y/N)'s heart raced, her skin crawling at the sight of it.

Dumbledore yanked Harry's injured arm next to Crouch's. "You know what this means, don't you? He is back!" Crouch's insane laughter filled the room. "Lord Voldemort has returned!"

(Y/N)'s heart pounded in my chest. She had hoped it wasn't true, but the weight of his words settled heavily upon her. She gripped Harry's arm tighter, seeking comfort.

"Send him to Azkaban!" Dumbledore commanded, ushering Harry and (Y/N) out of the room. "They'll find they're missing a prisoner!"

Crouch's taunting voice followed us. "I'll be welcomed back like a hero," he declared, now looking deep into (Y/N)'s eyes.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore replied coldly, "personally, I have never had much time for heroes." He ushered us out, and the heavy door closed behind us.

As they made our way down the corridor towards the infirmary, (Y/N) turned to Snape, who was walking alongside them. (Y/N) now stopping to speak with him, separate of the others. His face was as impassive as ever, but there was a tension in his posture that she hadn't seen before.

Snape's eyes narrowed slightly, and she caught a flicker of something in his gaze—was it concern?
"He said I had a great legacy," she repeated. "It felt like he was hinting at something sinister something..."

Snape's face remained inscrutable, but his grip on his wand tighten momentarily. "Do not dwell on his words," he advised tersely. "Focus on recovering. I will look into this matter."

As they reached the infirmary, Snape hesitated at the door, his eyes scanning the corridor before he turned to (Y/N). "Ensure you get the rest you need," he said, his voice softer now. "There is more to this than you understand, but for now, take care of yourself."

She nodded, feeling a strange mix of reassurance and unease. "Thank you, Professor."

Inside the infirmary, Madame Pomfrey was already tending to the injured students. The atmosphere was heavy with concern and weariness. As (Y/N) settled into a bed, the seriousness of the situation weighed down on her.

Neville, Harry, and the others gathered around, their faces etched with worry. Hermione and Ron were unusually quiet, their usual banter absent. The gravity of Cedric's death and the revelation of Voldemort's return left no room for lightheartedness.

Neville looked devastated as he approached (Y/N looking deeply into her eyes, his own worn with crimson and puffiness. "You could have been killed," he murmured, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry, (Y/N). I should have stopped you." He said his eyes now welling with tears.

"Nev, it's not your fault," She said softly, reaching out to hold his hand. "I'm okay. We all need to stick together now more than ever. I am here now." She smiled slightly her heart breaking with every tear that fell from his face.

As she lay there, holding Neville's hand and listening to the soft murmurs of my friends, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Barty Crouch Jr.'s words than she had yet to uncover. The darkness surrounding Voldemort, the cryptic message about my legacy—it all seemed to be part of a larger, more troubling mystery, one I seemed to be all too connected.